


Cruella Vs. Arthur

by rorywritesstuff



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Hänsel und Gretel | Hansel and Gretel (Fairy Tale), Once Upon a Time (TV), The Hundred and One Dalmatians - Dodie Smith
Genre: Battle, Gen, Horses, Magic, Revenge, Underworld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:40:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6797059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rorywritesstuff/pseuds/rorywritesstuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How I imagine this fight would go down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruella Vs. Arthur

The door to the diner burst open; in the threshold stood Arthur, his armour shining in the moonlight. “I have come for you, Devil,” he growled.  
Cruella smiled, crossed her legs but didn’t stand. “It’s pronounced De Vil, Darling. And you wouldn’t be the first.” She smiled.  
Arthur drew his sword and waved it about theatrically, “You will taste my blade.”  
Cruella’s face darkened. “You couldn’t afford it.” Behind the counter, the Blind Witch made a move, but Cruella held up her hand, “Don’t worry, Darling, this won’t take long. Get started on those martinis; I’ll be back before you’re done.”  
“If you’re sure.” The Witch turned around and began slicing olives.  
Cruella stood up, shrugging on her fur coat and casually picking up her handbag, “Shall we take this outside, Darling? Or do you want to deprive the poor souls trapped here of another fine establishment?”  
Arthur snarled but let Cruella sashay past him and out the door. He followed. 

Outside, Cruella let out a low whistle.  
“Calling for back up?” Arthur spun his sword a few times, “Hardly sporting.”  
“Not being sporting is what’s kept me alive.” She paused, “Well, no, but you get the idea.”  
“Will you willingly acquiesce your throne or do I have to hurt you?”  
“Ooh,” Cruella breathed, excited, “You are confident. I love a man who knows how to handle his weapon.” From the end of the street, there suddenly came the sound of galloping hooves, Arthur turned to see a huge chestnut horse speeding towards them. “Unfortunately for you, I love power more.” The stallion stopped before her and she stroked its head affectionately, allowing just a moment of stillness.  
Then she swung and smacked him in the face with her handbag. He stumbled backwards, disoriented by the force. “What is in that thing?”  
“Some lipstick, a compact, and a brick. A girl’s got to be prepared for anything.”  
Arthur leapt at her, his sword drawn; she sidestepped, but he still managed to glance her with his blade, right on the cheek. She put a begloved hand up to the wound and glanced at the blood. “You brute.”  
“I will do far worse to you before we’re through.”  
“We’re already through, Darling. I’m bored and, worse, I fear my drink’s getting warm.” She pursed her lips and a small sliver of bright green smoke escaped from her mouth and wormed its way into the horse’s nostrils; its eyes flashed briefly emerald, then it whinnied and reared up, pawing at the air.  
“I’m King Arthur. I know how to control a horse.” Arthur scoffed.  
Cruella grinned, “Not as well as I do.”  
She turned to leave and as Arthur stepped to block her path, the stallion grabbed the back of his armour in its mouth and began to drag him backwards. Arthur flailed and the steed flung its head back, catapulting him into the air. He flipped over once and the horse bowed low to catch him on its back. The second he landed, it set off at a pace, and Arthur had to cling to stay on.  
Behind him he heard Cruella yell, “Cheerio! Cheerio, darling!”  
The wind whipped at his face and the city blurred past as the horse ran faster and faster.  
“Whoa! Whoa!” Arthur called, and dug his heels into its flanks but to no effect. The animal sped along the streets, scattering citizens left and right. Suddenly, they came up on the docks and all too late Arthur realised Cruella’s plan- before he could throw himself from the animal, it stopped dead and ducked its head. Arthur was thrown from its back, sailed through the air and landed with a splash in the river of lost souls.  
He didn’t resurface. 

“Excellent Martini, darling, as always.” Cruella sipped and smiled to herself.  
The Blind Witch cocked her head to one side, “I heard a splash. He’s gone.”  
“Pity, too- I would have loved to feel his sword in my stone.”  
The two women laughed and clinked their drinks together.  
“Whose horse is it anyway?” Asked the Witch.  
“Oh, who knows? It showed up when Regina did. Damn useful, though: I think I’ll have him trample anyone who steps out of line.”  
“But won’t that count as killing them? I thought you couldn’t do that.”  
“Well, it’s like that dreadful pirate said- you can’t kill the dead. But you can hurt them. A lot.” She picked the olive out of her glass, toyed with it for a moment and then tossed it in her mouth. “I’m starting to enjoy this place.”

**Author's Note:**

> Serves him right.


End file.
